The Right Witter

Author:DebbieRating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I still own nothing.
Summary: Dawson and Pacey finally confess their feelings. Part 3 in the Witter Series.
Author's Note: Thanks again to Kristin for inspiring me to write this sequel.
Feedback: Always welcome!

Around 2 a.m. Pacey gave up trying to sleep. He was too full of disappointment and heartache, not to mention self-loathing over his run-away behavior. Creeping down the hallway of the B&B he thought he'd get a drink of water, and maybe he'd look for a book in the sitting room, something to distract him. As he passed by the front windows of the B&B, however, Pacey noticed a solitary figure sitting out on the docks, his silhouette visible in the moonlight. Dawson. What the heck was he doing here? For a while Pacey sat on the edge of an armchair and just allowed himself the chance to gaze uninterruptedly at the object of his desire. Then he sighed. <<Come off it, Witter,>> he thought. <<You're just hiding again, like you always do. At least go out there and talk to the guy. He looks like he could use a friend.>> Pulling his jacket over his pajamas and stuffing his feet carelessly into his sneakers, he went outside and headed down the path to the dock.

Dawson turned in surprise at the sound of footsteps. "Pacey?" he said, squinting through the darkness. Uh oh. Looked like his resolve to tell Pacey the truth was going to be tested sooner than he thought. His heart pounded -- he wasn’t ready! Lamely, he said the first thing that came to mind:

"What are you doing here?"

"I might ask the same of you, you know."

"Oh, well, I guess I had a lot on my mind, so I came here to think."

Pacey raised an eyebrow. "Kind of cold for that, isn't it?"

"It's not that cold."

Pacey shrugged. "If you say so. So is this a private party, or can I come sit and join you in freezing to death?"

Dawson's reply was to scoot over a little on the dock. Pacey lowered himself down to the wooden boards and drew his legs up, resting his arms atop his knees. He kept the compact position so as not to accidentally touch Dawson.

They sat quietly for a moment. Then, in an overly-casual voice, Dawson asked, "So, you spend the night with Joey often?"

Pacey's first reaction was to feel hurt that the other boy focused, as usual, not on him but on a girl. He lashed out in response before he could squelch his reaction: "Not that it's any of your goddamn business, but no. I actually came here in order to give you and my sister some privacy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dawson, I saw you kissing her tonight at the party."

"Oh. That was nothing," Dawson mumbled uncomfortably, hastily. "Mr. Brooks just goaded us into it because we were standing under the mistletoe. It didn't mean anything. Besides--" Dawson turned to stare over the water. "—there are other people I'd rather be with." Ok, so it wasn't exactly a confession of undying love for Pacey. It was taking all his nerve just to say that much.

"You mean Joey,"

"No."

Pacey turned to look at him. "No? But I thought—" He trailed off in confusion. "So, who is it, then?"

Dawson sighed. "It's someone I've wanted for a long time. I've just never been able to tell them how I felt." Maybe if he dropped enough hints, Pacey would just figure it out for himself.

Or not. Pacey just responded, "So go tell them now, if it means that much to you."

"It's not that simple."

"Why, because it's the middle of the night?" Pacey's humor defense mechanism kicked in. He didn't want to hear about yet another girl stealing Dawson's heart. "Heck, so what if it's 2:30am. Wake 'em up!" His smile faded as Dawson gave him a *look*. "Sorry, man. Just trying to lighten the moment. Actually, in all seriousness, I do understand where you're coming from."

"Why? Because of Joey?"

"No, not because of Joey." Pacey said mockingly. Then he sobered. "If you must know, I've had my own secret admiree." <<What the heck, Witter. Go for broke. You can't hurt more now than you can listening to him wax sad love sonnets for someone else already, now, can you?>> Pacey's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Actually," he said, capturing Dawson's eyes, "it's you."

The words were out. Too late to take them back. He could see Dawson's eyes widen, dark pools of midnight in the dim light. Pacey's heart pounded –why didn't he keep his big mouth shut? The defense mechanism kicked back on. "Feel free to run away screaming any time now," he said, forcing a laugh. Then he turned his face away to stare blankly over the water again, and hunched miserably over his bent knees.

There was a long silence, the only sound coming from the tiny waves as they lapped the shore.

"Pace?" He felt a light touch on his arm. It became a caress as Dawson's fingers trailed lightly down the length of his sleeve. Even through the fabric of his jacket, Pacey felt the sensuousness in the gesture. Every nerve suddenly lit on fire, uncontrollably. He turned his head, uncertain. It couldn't be ...

And then he wasn't aware of anything else but the feel of Dawson's lips on his, soft and light, yet no less arousing just because the kiss was tentative. <<Oh God. Better than I even imagined.>> After a few eternal seconds they pulled apart a few inches to look at each other. Pacey tried to convey with his eyes what words could not adequately express. He hardly dared believe what he saw in Dawson's blue depths. "Are you sure about this Dawson? You're not just taking pity on me?"

"You idiot," Dawson replied in a light teasing tone. He leaned in for another quick kiss. "Don't you know it's you? *You're* the one I had hidden feelings for. It just took me ages to admit it. And actually, you can thank your sister for helping in that department – I realized I was trying to substitute her for you, only it didn't work."

"Oh." Pacey looked abashed. "I just figured I was the wrong Witter, when I saw you two together."

"Nope. You're definitely the right Witter." Dawson scooted back to lean against one of the pillars, pulling Pacey around until they both were snuggled up together. Pacey leaned his head on Dawson's chest, just feeling him breathe, reveling in the sense of touch. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He was afraid he might wake up any minute and find it was a dream.

They sat like that a long time, watching the stars and moon move across the night sky. They kissed often. Lots of kisses. Soft, gentle kisses. Hard, passionate kisses. Wandering kisses, lips nibbling over ears and down necks, tongues exploring velvety warm mouths. It wasn't until Pacey found himself on his back, Dawson stretched out on top of him, that he dared break the magical atmosphere with his voice.

"Hey," he murmured between kisses. "Do you think we could maybe move somewhere a bit warmer now?"

"Why? Am I not keeping you warm enough?" Dawson ground his pelvis against Pacey's.

With astonishing speed, Dawson scrambled up and held out his hand to pull Pacey to a standing position. "Your place or mine?"

Pacey rolled his eyes as he got up. "God, what a cornball. I'll overlook it this one time, though, seeing as how you're an excellent kisser and all." He stole another quick one before continuing. "It depends – where are we likely not to be bothered first thing in the morning? As much fun as this is, I'm going to need sleep eventually."

"My place, then. My parents are always at the restaurant bright and early. They never notice if I'm awake until noon at the earliest."

"Perfect. Let me just grab my stuff from inside." He suddenly remembered, with a pang, that Joey would look for him in the morning. "Hmm. I guess I should leave Joey a note so she won't call the police when I'm not there for breakfast, huh? I suppose it would be too rude of me to say 'Went to go make out with Dawson.'"